


VigBean for stormatdusk

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-02
Updated: 2007-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It was inspired by a translation of an article posted in the Viggo News section at Viggo Works on July 5. Right now the link is here (http://www.viggo-works.com/index.php?page=243&&offset=25); the heading is Viggo Mortensen, by Lorenza Del Tosto. It's currently on page 6.</p>
    </blockquote>





	VigBean for stormatdusk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stormatdusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormatdusk/gifts).



> It was inspired by a translation of an article posted in the Viggo News section at Viggo Works on July 5. Right now the link is here (http://www.viggo-works.com/index.php?page=243&&offset=25); the heading is Viggo Mortensen, by Lorenza Del Tosto. It's currently on page 6.

Sean scans the printout in his hand once more. For the twentieth time, maybe more, he refolds the paper and holds it tight in his fist, its creases now wearing through the typeface from being handled so many times in the last few days. The elevator seems to be moving in slow motion and Sean frowns with impatience, unfolding the page again and immediately focusing on "staggering," "worn out," "worked all night long."

Even with the rough translation, it was clear that Viggo was running himself into the ground, the exhaustion evident throughout the flowery language. He could picture his lover stumbling through the hotel lobby, slightly giddy, his words almost slurred. His frame is probably much too thin, stress and overwork wrecking havoc on him. For not the first time Sean wished someone would cast Viggo in a comedy, in any film that would not acutely tax his soul and require weeks to return to his own skin.

He wills the lift to move faster, wishes he had Viggo in his arms right now absorbing the strain, emptying his lover of the constant pressure and anxiety then smoothing his way to a deep and restful sleep. More than anything he wants to give him comfort and release, forcibly eject his characters from his psyche and their weight from his shoulders. But Viggo hasn't returned his calls for the past week, and Sean doesn't know what to make of that. It's only served to increase his concern and he begins to pace within the confines of the cage that feels smaller with each passing minute.

Finally reaching the correct floor, Sean all but shoves his way through the doors as they slowly slide open. He hurries to Viggo's rented flat, quickly jamming the manhandled paper into his pocket before knocking on the door. It surprises him how quietly he raps on the wood, half expecting his tension to erupt into panicked banging shattering the silence of the hall. Counting slowly from 10, he forces himself to reach the end of the countdown before knocking again, rocking from his heels to the balls of his feet while trying to calm his features. He hits five faster than he'd like so takes a deep breath, fishing his hands out of his pockets and lacing his fingers together behind his back. Moving his feet slightly further apart, he concentrates on keeping still and taking cleansing breaths as he continues counting.

Reaching one he hesitates briefly, then just as he's raising his hand to knock again the door opens and Viggo is in front of him, listing ever so slightly away from the door as if his hand on the wood is a tether keeping him upright. His eyes are dimmed of their usual light, the energy and life that normally radiates from their depths muted and shut down. He looks surprised to see Sean but he also seems pained, as if Sean's presence is adding more stress to his already burdened mind. Sean tries to smile but he can only manage a small, tentative grin, his worry for his friend and lover growing exponentially at the sight in front of him.

"You look like you need some sleep, Vig," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, while he reaches out to gently cup Viggo's cheek in his hand, and winces when Viggo quickly pulls back.

"What are you doing here, Sean." Viggo's voice is devoid of rhythm and timbre, a raspy monotone that leaves Sean cold.

"I was worried about you. Can I come in?"

Viggo takes a couple of lurching steps back, giving Sean room to move into the apartment. The organized clutter is very Viggo but the disorganized kitchen with dirty dishes overflowing in the sink is not. Viggo keeps a neat kitchen even when the rest of his home is buried under the detritus of an artistic mind. Sean pauses for a moment looking at the disarray of half-open cabinet doors and the confusion on the counters, then turns and watches Viggo close the door and stay leaning against it, his eyes closed and head bowed.

"Please, Viggo, talk to me. You're scaring the shit out of me right now."

It takes all of Sean's strength not to hurl himself at Viggo, wrap him in his arms and not let go. But for whatever reason Viggo needs the space right now, so he stands firm in the kitchen doorway and watches as Viggo's head rises, his eyes remaining shut to Sean's care and concern.

"I owe you an apology," he says after what feels like hours have passed, then opens his eyes and levels his gaze at Sean, who's taken aback by the intensity now brewing inside them. "I lied to a reporter, told her I hadn't found love since Christine."

Sean becomes even more confused. They've never been public about their relationship, had always evaded questions or lied to the press many times throughout the years. He couldn't understand why it was so important now, why Viggo felt this time was more of a betrayal than others. But he waited, knew not to push; Viggo needed to get something out before it escaped him, before he was forced to try to convey these feelings in some other medium other than words. He could hear the second hand on his watch clicking, the quiet hum of the refrigerator as it turned on, the sound of running water through the walls from another flat. And still he waited, not letting his eyes drop from Viggo's, trying to give him the courage or security he needed to continue.

"I don't usually mind that we're a secret, that this is just between us and not available to the outside world. But lately I've needed ..." he trailed off, momentarily sagging even more then pulling himself up and away from the door. "I've wanted to tell everyone every day, wanted to shout at the top of my lungs that Sean Bean was mine and I was his. But I don't even know how you feel, what you feel."

Sean started to protest but stopped at Viggo's raised hand. "No, not really, Sean. We've never talked about it, just let things happen as they will. Like you said once, we've been taking it one day at a time." It hadn't occured to him before, but Sean had to grudgingly admit Viggo was right. He had said that, thought it would take the pressure off, neither of them having a successful track record with relationships. But it didn't mean that Viggo didn't mean the world to him, that he didn't love him. Why hadn't they ever actually said the words? What had they been afraid of?

Viggo intently watched Sean as he let the words sink in. The play of emotions across his face intrigued Viggo and gave him hope. He had felt like Sean was slowly being removed from his life, that his beautiful spirit and caring heart were no longer his to ask for. He knew this was partly due to fatigue, total mental and physical debilitation. But it still felt real, kept his nerves on edge and kept him awake at night. They acted like forever was a given, and he assumed that both had been monogamous for years, but neither had ever broached the subject, ever said the words, and now more than ever Viggo needed the peace that would come from solidifying their feelings, giving them voice.

"I need more; want more permanency, commitment, I don't know I just know I need it. Probably if I were home I wouldn't feel the loss of you so acutely. But hiding my feelings on top of everything else is too much. It's just too much."

The stream of thoughts finally drying up, Viggo deflated; his legs gave out and he slowly slumped to the floor. Sean was there in an instant, supporting and cradling Viggo in his arms as they sunk to the ground together. They sat there for several minutes, not crying but drinking deep of the other's warmth, refilling coffers they had inadvertently let empty in their hearts.

Sean shifted slightly to move his lips closer to Viggo's ear. "I can't believe so much time has passed like this, without making any kind of declaration or promise. Other than my girls there's no one in this world that means more to me. I love you, Viggo, I love you and I don't ever want to know what it would be like to not have you in my life. Let me show you, let me take care of you." He felt more than heard the low hum in Viggo's throat, the contented relaxation of stiff shoulders and then a strong hand on his arm, leaning on him for support as Viggo moved to kneel in front of him.

"I love you more than I need air to breathe," he said, his voice faint but not weak, surety clear in the rich tone only lightened from lack of sleep.

Once again, Sean reached out to cup Viggo's cheek but this time his partner leaned into the touch. He traced a path down Viggo's neck and shoulders, clasping his hand and squeezing. He levered himself to his feet, pulling Viggo with him.

"A hot bath, a deep massage, a hearty meal, a warm bed and strong arms to snuggle in. How does that sound, love?"

"Like heaven," Viggo murmured, stepping closer to Sean and leaning in to fill his lungs with Sean, the welcoming scent of peace, of care, of home. "Absolutely like heaven."


End file.
